


What is time, anyway?

by cyanidecity



Series: letters from captivity [1]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Isolation, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidecity/pseuds/cyanidecity
Summary: Timed after Scylla's been captured but before she's seen Raelle. Sitting alone in that interrogation room, adrift from the onslaughts of psychological torture, Scylla is left to contemplate the memories, thoughts, and feelings that she is no longer able to ignore. The good, the bad, and the defining. This is meant to be the first of a series that goes deep into Scylla's situation and mindset. This one is romantic and fluffy. Enjoy!
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: letters from captivity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748980
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	What is time, anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at writing like this. Comments/suggestions are appreciated! There's nothing too graphic here. I want this series to go into Scylla's psychology and come to understand what's going on behind those eyes. I hope you enjoy it!

What is time, anyway?

Scylla’s head hangs limp over her shoulders. Her eyes, usually so vibrant and wide, are squinted against the harsh light blaring from the spotlights arranged in a circle around her. 

She isn’t sure how long she'd been here. She'd sincerely done her best to try to keep track of time, but Fort Salem's valiant warriors had gone to great lengths to take care of that for her. In this veritable underground cavern, surrounded by intense lights with no meaningful routine, Scylla had no way to measure the passage of time. Her guards even randomized the times that they visited for food, water, and bucket privileges.

It's such a simple thing, to be able to check a clock and connect yourself to the passage of time. Looking at the time tells you exactly how far you've gone and exactly how much more is left to go. It's something she had never thought of before, but in its sudden absence Scylla is left feeling adrift and disturbed. A part of her looks at it with appreciation; as much as she despises the army, she had to applaud the genius of their methods of psychological torture. The separation from time is making it all the more difficult for Scylla to maintain her composure.

Psychological torture. She remembers her mother’s words now, ringing through her skull with perfect clarity. _They will do anything to get what they want_. _Destruction means nothing to Alder._ Scylla’s mother never taught her how to fight, though. Only how to evade. Scylla knows that Quartermaine only needs a moment of weakness to reach the memories that will betray the Spree and put Scylla’s life in even greater danger than it already is. _Your future is bleak._ Those words, engraved into her mirror with malice, ring with a hollowness that is almost more visceral than the deep memories of her mother’s voice. 

In the vast, uninterrupted stretches of solitude in this godforsaken room, Scylla’s greatest enemy is herself. All of the thoughts that she can normally dismiss with a smile and a wave are here with her now, clawing out of her subconscious and into her heart. Although, if she’s being completely honest, Scylla’s difficulties with her relationship with both time and her past began even before the psychological torture. 

For example, when Scylla is with Raelle, time doesn't exist. 

_Raelle._ The name drifts through Scylla’s consciousness like a beautiful, delicate melody. Scylla's lips, pursed tight from her previous reverie, thoughtlessly curve into the ghost of a smile. A pair of brilliant blue eyes haloed by vibrant blond hair materialize Scylla's mind. She imagines Raelle’s smile is wide - so wide that her eyes are squinted. A pain strike's Scylla's chest at the image. The thought she's been avoiding all day springs to her mind, unbidden. _What if I never get to see that smile again_? 

Scylla bites her lip hard to distract herself from the thought. She doesn't have the mental energy to let it unfold. Instead, she chooses to focus on something brighter. Something more hopeful. Like settling into a familiar chair, Scylla recalls a memory of Raelle that has come to be one of her favorites. It's from before Beltane, back in the first few weeks that Scylla and Raelle had begun spending time together. Before things got complicated, and before Scylla realized the full depth of the feelings she had developed for her Southern gentlewoman.

They were in Scylla’s room, hanging out at the end of a long day. As often happened, Scylla was laying down on the bed with her head propped up by her hand, watching Raelle as she talked. It was astonishing to Scylla how easily she was able to talk to this young would-be rebel. Although the first several nights they had spent together were mostly physical, as they became more comfortable with each other’s presence their conversations grew progressively deeper and more captivating. They covered everything under the sun – the oddities of the army’s rhetoric and brainwashing, music, childhood foods, the interactions they’d had with their peers that day, conspiracy theories. Usually, this kind of talk bored Scylla. Whatever people thought or felt, it never seemed to be something that actually meant anything besides explaining the subtleties of their meaningless little lives. But with Raelle, Scylla was interested. Raelle’s passion oozed through every word she said, even though she tried to hide it. In moments when Raelle was feeling particularly earnest, it seemed as though the air itself crackled with an energy that Scylla had never before felt. It was intense, but inviting. Light.

At this particular moment, Raelle was draped across Scylla’s chair, facing towards the ceiling.

“If dogs wore pants, would they wear them just on the two front or back legs, or would they wear them on all four legs equally?” Raelle asked. Scylla chuckled quietly, closing her eyes and shaking her head. She took a quick glance at her watch – 11:30. Raelle had to leave at 6:00 in the morning, so their time for activities other than talking was rapidly disappearing. As much as she loved to relax and talk with Raelle – and she did love it, genuinely – that was still nothing compared to what it was like to be _not talking_ with Raelle. That energy, that tangible power, was even more intoxicating when it was directed totally at her and trailing along the inside of her thighs… Scylla swallowed suddenly at the thought, feeling heat creep into her cheeks.

It had been just moments that Scylla was distracted, but Raelle had apparently taken notice. She’d partially sat up in the chair to look at Scylla with a quizzical smile. “What, did that question really trip you up?” Raelle laughed breezily. By this point, though, Scylla had gotten a grip over herself. She looked down and bit her lip softly, letting an intentional moment of silence hang in the air as she traced patterns on the sheet next to her. Finally, she looked up at Raelle from under hooded eyelids, letting her voice come out sultry.

“I think maybe I’m just ready for bed, is all,” Scylla purred, savoring the shape of each word in her mouth. She could tell immediately that her little display had exactly its intended effect on Raelle. The blonde’s eyes grew slightly wider, and her lips are slightly apart in desire. Scylla looked at those lips, tracing their gentle curves and appreciating the shape of the scar along Raelle’s lower cheek. Once she’d gotten her fill, she flicked her eyes purposefully back up to Raelle’s eyes. Raelle kept Scylla’s gaze for a moment before looking down with a slight smile.

Raelle got up from the chair quite suddenly, lurching over to the bed next to Scylla. She began leaning unsteadily away from the bed, and Scylla had to reach out to grab Raelle’s waist to keep her from falling.

“Whoah there, cowboy,” Scylla laughed, pulling Raelle all the way back onto the bed so that she was laying down.

“I've got you,” Scylla reassured. Raelle’s eyes focused slowly, and she looked up at Scylla’s smiling face hovering over her. That was when Raelle flashed the first of the smiles that Scylla would later come to learn and love. It was a slow smile, that started with her dimples and spread to her eyes.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Raelle breathed. Scylla half-thought she wasn’t supposed to hear it, but she quickly forgot about that as Raelle reached up to pull her into a gentle kiss. The kiss, despite being slow and gentle, was powerful. It called to something deep in Scylla, and caused her chest and stomach to tighten in a way that was both unfamiliar and exciting. While their kisses usually escalated into physicality rapidly, this one grew slowly. Raelle’s hands, previously on Scylla’s neck and cheek, travelled to her waist and settled on the swell of her hips. Even that soft touch sent a zing of sensation that made Scylla’s heart pick up the pace.

Raelle broke the kiss abruptly. Scylla eyes fluttered open, dazed. Raelle was wearing that same smile, but somehow it had gotten stronger. The air between them seemed to crackle with energy, and Scylla felt a sudden, powerful urge to close the distance and get as close to Raelle as she could. Raelle sat up slowly, bringing their faces together. Without breaking eye contact, Raelle continued sitting up until she was upright on the bed. Raelle took Scylla’s free hand in hers then, lacing their fingers together and guiding them down to the bed. As Scylla acquiesced and leaned back, Raelle pinned Scylla’s remaining handin a similar fashion. Scylla naturally spread her legs, and Raelle’s body fell in between her thighs. Raelle brought their faces close and began leaving feather-light kisses along Scylla’s neck and collarbone. Scylla shivered at the touch as her heartrate picked up and hunger grew.

“Raelle, I want to touch you,” Scylla sighed into Raelle’s ear. Raelle paused her kisses and pulled up to give Scylla a solemn expression. Slowly, she released her grip on Scylla’s hands. Scylla then brought her free hands up to Raelle’s ribcage. She cherished the feel of the tensed muscles and faint vibration of Raelle’s heartbeat underneath her fingers. Raelle’s eyes glance down, but Scylla moves her face to catch Raelle’s attention once more. There’s a question in her eyes. Raelle seems to see it and understand, because she gives a slight nod and a smile before diving back down to give Scylla a deep, languid, tender kiss. Scylla’s heart tightened even more than she had thought possible as they continued.

_Drip._

The solitary sound in the midst of the unbroken silence breaks Scylla’s reverie. Yes, that’s one of her favorite memories of Raelle. That night, when they talked for hours and then had intimate sex, was the first time that Scylla got an inkling of what exactly she had stumbled into. Before Raelle, Scylla had thought that love existed only in fairy tales and fantasies. Though she had seen its shadow in her parents and their friends, it was always far overwhelmed by the constant tension that made up most of their relationships. But that night, with that gentle, powerful, beautiful girl in her arms, Scylla understood how people could bend their whole lives to fit the shape of a love they had suddenly found. It was a first glimpse of the head-over-heels tumble for Raelle that was to follow.

A yawning emptiness opens in Scylla’s chest as she begins to think about Raelle. She had chosen Raelle. She’d chosen to defy the Spree, to risk a real threat of death, to protect the girl she’d fallen in love with. But she hadn’t been able to explain. When the balloons came, Anacostia had acted fast. As Raelle ran off to help the people fleeing in panic, Anacostia had put her to sleep and dragged her away. The next thing she knew, she was chained up in this goddamn room. And she never got to tell Raelle what happened. Never got to tell Raelle why she’d joined the Spree, why she thinks she’d been assigned to Raelle, why she had chosen death over giving up her girl. Locked up in here, there was nothing she could do to fix that. Right now, Alder has all of the control over what the only person Scylla’s ever loved knows about her.

More than anything, Scylla wants to feel Raelle in her arms again. That, and to be able to move her arms. But there is nothing she can do. For the first time in her life, Scylla is totally and completely helpless. A tear springs, unbidden, to her eye and falls to leave a dark spot on her dusty pants. She just needs to stay cool. Right now, that’s all she can do. Then, when the time is right, she can figure out a way to see that lovely smile again. A deep exhaustion settles over Scylla’s bones, and she welcomes the opportunity to get to sleep for the first time in a while. If she’s lucky, she’ll dream of Raelle.

**Author's Note:**

> Fingers crossed that these gay beans get to be happy together!!!  
> This is my first attempt at fanfic, but I think I like it! I hope you do too. :)  
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
